


Hedge Wizard

by KittyNomsDePlume (Extra_Pickles)



Series: Fallen To Dust [2]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dancing, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, One Shot, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut, hedges
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:55:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28667331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Extra_Pickles/pseuds/KittyNomsDePlume
Summary: NSFWThis is an alternate, smutty take of Chapter 7 from my Solavellan fic, Fallen to Dust. Written from (OC) Maera’s POV for something different. The basic premise being - What if Solashadpushed Maera up against the hedges during the memory of the Coronation Ball in the Fade?
Relationships: Fen'Harel | Solas/Original Female Character(s), Solas (Dragon Age)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Fallen To Dust [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2144340
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	Hedge Wizard

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fallen to Dust](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27519916) by [KittyNomsDePlume (Extra_Pickles)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Extra_Pickles/pseuds/KittyNomsDePlume). 



> TRANSLATIONS
> 
> Vherlin - kitten
> 
> A/N : auto-correct kept changing Vherlin to Gherkin. I think I caught them all, but if you come across one, please let me know :D

Maera clings tight to Solas’ arm, watching the Orlesian aristocrats with a weary despair. All the suffering they inflict on the world and for what? For this gilded, extravagant life, full of hollow laughter and venomous smiles. She cannot understand how this appeals to any sane person. To live a life without trust or true companionship, where even love can be weaponised. It must be exhausting to live in constant fear of being betrayed or outmanoeuvred. Their cruel, callous thoughts press out into the Fade, running over her skin like a thousand crawling spiders. Solas disengages from her grasp and she paws helplessly at empty air, turning frantically to find him again.

 _Don’t leave me alone with these monsters,_ she almost cries when she catches his eye. However her stomach churns as she realises too late that he has brought her into the ballroom. He steps onto the dance floor, bowing with an unnatural grace as he sweeps his hand toward her.

“Dance with me?” he entreats. She looks hesitantly from him to the dancers already engaged with the music; a gaudy, swirling stream of frills and lace. Her eyes sweep uncertainly across the spectators that fill in every inch of space at the edge of the ballroom. “What are you afraid of?” He needles and her eyes snap at him defiantly.

“I’m not afraid.” She protests, firmly grasping his offered hand. For someone so aloof - cold even - she is always surprised by the warmth of his touch. They sway in place as they catch the rhythm and then he leads her into the round. As they dance, Maera actively casts her demure gaze anywhere but at him; already ill at ease amongst these Orlesians and now to be dancing under their sneering watch. Mostly though she is annoyed at herself, that she let Solas goad her into it. Even still, she crosses over and around him with ease, hands rising and falling as they make their way across the room.

 _Yet another unexpected ability_. Maera muses, content to not think too hard on it. Simply relieved that she even knows the steps of the dance at all.

“Could you imagine two knife-ears brazenly dancing at the Imperial palace in the waking world?” Solas chuckles and steps in close to guide her through a turn. She cannot help the gasp that escapes her lips as his hand presses into the small of her back. Maera has long struggled with the conflicting emotions he rouses in her. His words - his touch - unfailingly drive her insides into a quaking riot. But always there is a voice of reason telling her not to trust this feeling. That he is not sincere and is merely toying with her. “You dance beautifully by the way.”

“Only because you lead so well.” Maera returns hastily, desperately trying to remain tethered to what little sense she still possesses. She steps away from him and back again, her hand falling gracefully onto his shoulder.

“You should give yourself credit where it is due.” These softly spoken words, seemingly so innocuous, send a jolt of panic through her. Confounded, she chances to look at him. The tender gaze that greets her, fills her with terrible sorrow. Maera stumbles over her feet, overwhelmed with the sense that this is all wrong.

 _This was a mistake._ She chides herself as she steps away from him, eyes darting around the crowded room. _I don’t belong here._ Solas presses insistently against her waist, drawing her into him. He grasps her face, gently urging her gaze back to him.

“There is only you and I.” He insists, his nose almost brushing against hers, as he sweeps her back into the dance. So easy it would be, to close that small gap. To let go and be swept away by this unbearable longing.

“That is not as reassuring as you think.” She manages to gasp, surprised she can even speak when her throat and chest feel so tight. A righteous indignation is welling inside her, seething quietly.

“I would never hurt you.” He raises her hand in his and as she spins that quiet rage flares to life.

“You say that, but…” Maera leaves her words hanging, biting back an angry response as she twirls away from him. _All you do is hurt._ She feels unhinged as these words ring loud, over and over in her mind. She cannot fathom a reason for this resentment.

“You don’t believe me?” Solas’ fingers burn a trail down her arm as he catches up to her, twining his fingers with hers.

 _Creators… What is he, that he disarms me so?_ His arm snakes around her waist from behind, pulling her flush against him. _Is he even real? Is any of this?_ Maera cannot think straight with so many feelings clashing inside her. _Am I?_ Her body responds of it’s own accord, melting against him. She reclines her head against his shoulder, the sinuous motion exposing her neck. Solas’ hot breath grazes over her, but he holds himself back at the last moment. The disappointment she feels is frightening in it’s intensity.

“I believe you are dangerous.” Maera murmurs, their hands interlocking above her shoulders as they glide along the floor.

“As are you,” he breathes in her ear. His confession makes her tingle from head to toe, goosebumps raising all over her.

 _Is he as mixed up and helpless as I?_ She wonders as the music meets a flourishing crescendo. Solas turns Maera toward him, confidently cradling her into a graceful dip. For the first time she notes the firmness of his biceps as she instinctively grasps them with her hands. Feeling that surprising strength, she realises there is little risk of him dropping her.The other couples begin to break apart, clearing the floor, but Solas does not yet relinquish his hold. The glint in his eyes speak to her of wicked, wanton desires. _Yes… take me, unmake me… just love me,_ the hunger inside her begs. Maera tries to right herself, pushing insistently at his shoulders; fighting as much against him as herself.

Reluctantly Solas lets her up and she pulls away, scowling in confusion. Maera can still feel the electric undercurrent of greed, intrigue and lust that snakes through the assembled crowd. Perhaps that is what is causing this turmoil inside her. Solas delivers a polite bow and she turns from him, trying to still the tremble that runs through her. Heralds trumpet a fanfare and the assembly turns to the dais at the end of the ballroom. She needs to get out of here, needs clear air to sort out what her true feelings are.

“His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Judicael!” One of the heralds announces, as she rushes through the crowd and out into the night.

“Maera.” She hears Solas call after her, but she doesn’t halt until she is clear of the ballroom, passing into shadow. Maera rests her hands on the marble balustrade that borders the terrace. The solidity of it is comforting, helping her feel anchored. “Are you alright?” Solas asks, making no effort to mask the concern in his voice. Maera closes her eyes, taking a deep breath of the fragrant air that trails in from the gardens.

“I’m sorry,” she apologises. “I needed some air. It is overwhelming.” She says and feels a sudden urge to convince Solas that he has not affected her so. “Being amongst _them,_ ” she quickly clarifies. Why she wants to hide how vulnerable he makes her, she does not know. She simply chooses to trust this instinct.

“Shall we take a walk in the garden then?” He sweeps his hand toward the orderly hedges and flowerbeds, lit only by starlight. She nods and he clasps his hands behind his back as he strides slightly ahead of her. They descend a short flight of steps to a manicured lawn. “I can sacrifice the pleasures of the ball.” Maera twitches in the dark beside him, his words once again triggering an inexplicable sense of deja vu.

They traipse quietly, side by side through the gardens. The further they move from the crowd the more calm she becomes, more like herself. It must have been their vicious intrigues that were making her anxious after all.

“This place makes you uncomfortable?” Solas asks, almost as though he has read her thoughts.

“Yes.” She replies simply - truthfully - and he scoffs at her.

“I suppose it will avail me nothing to ask why?” Solas asks lightly and Maera stops short, exasperated with his boundless ego.

“I do not withhold parts of myself purely to aggravate _you_.” She snaps,brushing past him. Quickly she realises that he had spoken without recrimination, possibly even attempting to approach the topic of her recalcitrance with humour. She sighs, coming to halt as she hugs herself tightly. It would appear she is still more on edge that she thought.

“I can feel their desires,” Maera states by way of apology. “It all coils together; fear, hunger, lust, betrayal. They act like they are happy, but inside they are small and selfish and cruel.”

“It is the Game.” Solas remarks as he sidles up next to her. Briefly she sways toward him, instinctively longing for the comfort of his embrace. His breath hitches, catching the fleeting motion. That small sound of surprise sends a renewed tremor of fear through her. She is afraid of the overpowering effect he has; afraid that she might submit to these urges within her. Most of all, she is terribly afraid of being hurt.

“It makes my skin crawl.” Maera shudders, stepping away from him in a deliberate attempt to maintain a polite - _safe_ \- distance. Unexpectedly he steps forward, filling the void between them. Startled she steps back again, only for him to rush in like an inexorable tide; over and over until her back is caught against a verdant hedge. Solas raises his hands and she quivers in anticipation. He does not touch her however, instead grasping the foliage behind her, caging her between his arms.

“I am relieved to hear that you were not fleeing from me.” His rich voice is full of gentle mirth.

“Oh.” She utters quietly, unable to muster much more of a response with his face so close to hers; the heat in his eyes making her brain seize. Maera is frozen with indecision and he makes no move either. Neither closing the gap between them or relinquishing the territory he has claimed. His ardent gaze roams over her face, travelling up over her hair before dropping low, sweeping her body. Maera’s ears twitch, flushing with heat as he once again captures her gaze with his.

Solas shifts his weight from one foot to the other, contemplating her. She wishes he would speak, or that she could think of something to say. Anything to break the agonising tension, to push them back from this precipice.

 _Or put us over entirely_ , she vaguely wishes, as heat travels from her face down her neck and pools in the core of her belly. The air between them is electric, making her tingle all over. Without warning, Solas darts in for a quick kiss. The barest brush of his lips against hers before he pulls back again, intently considering her reaction.

Maera forgets how to breath as she stares at his mouth, so full and inviting. She bites at her own lip, thinking of how much she would like to feel his on hers again. Or slowly grazing over every inch of her skin. As though he can plainly read that very thought on her face, his lips curve up in a self-satisfied smirk and he leans into her, capturing her mouth again. Maera’s hands catch the collar of his robe, unwilling to relinquish him now. Only peripherally is she aware of the sound of his hands crushing the hedge behind her.

“Solas… please.” She gasps as she breaks for air.

“Please stop?” He teases as he pulls away slightly and she tightens her grip on him. “Or more, please?” He whispers as his lips trail across her cheek to her temple.

“Please…” She stammers as he runs his tongue along the margin of her ear. “Put your hands on me.” A strangled groan escapes him as he brings one hand to cup her face, capturing her mouth in a hungry kiss. Now it is her turn to moan, as he coaxes her lips apart with his tongue. He presses his body flush against her, as his other hand wraps around her waist.

He pushes her back so firmly, she is practically swallowed by the thick shrub behind her. She wonders if there will be a Maera shaped imprint in it by the time they are done. The thought is so ridiculous she cannot help the giggle that bubbles from her throat. With her mouth trapped against his, it escapes through her nose as series of awful, huffing snorts. Solas pulls back, wondering at what amuses her.

“No-one has ever made a sound quite like _that_ in response to my love-making.” Solas teases her.

“I’m sorry.” She genuinely laments, relieved that he hasn’t taken her laughter personally. “I got this image in my head and I couldn’t help it.”

“Oh?” Now he frowns slightly. “That is disappointing, to know you were thinking of something else.” His hands soften against her, losing their urgency.

“What I mean is,” she hastily tries to explain, “I was thinking…” She grips his shoulders, pulling him back to her. Maera gives him a coy look, her voice a sultry whisper, “We should destroy this perfect hedge.” Solas chuckles and his expression becomes dissolute, as though she has touched on something that greatly appeals to him.

“Perhaps we could go find the Emperor’s throne.” He murmurs as his hands fall to her rear, greedily massaging her flesh. She hooks one leg around him as he pulls their hips together. Maera gasps with need at the feeling of his hard arousal pressing against her, his fingers delving and stroking between her thighs.

“Whatever would we do with the Emperor’s throne?” She asks with mock innocence and he blinks at her, obviously uncertain if she is really that obtuse. Her eyebrows twitch with mischief and Solas smiles at her, turning her insides into molten goo. He hums thoughtfully, as though he is having a hard time deciding exactly what they would do.

“I would take you, vherlin - every way imaginable, on the seat of the Orlesian Empire.” His fingers grow bolder, pressing against her cleft through her leggings. “I would not stop, even when - quaking and spent - you beg me to.” One of his hands comes up, to take hold of the back of her neck and she arches against his firm grip, breath coming in quick, short gasps. “Not until it is slick with our juices, dripping down to stain their pristine floor.”

“Only…” She shudders as he nibbles along her jaw and down her neck. Maera struggles to catch her breath - to form words - as his mouth and fingers drive her to distraction. “…if it’s before the Emperor and his entire _bloody_ Court,” she manages to pant at last. The frenzied sound Solas emits is somewhere between a groan and a growl, as his hands tear at her leggings, tugging them down her hips.

 _I guess we won’t be making it to the throne after all_ , she muses smugly, rather pleased that she has driven him to such a state. His fingers glide into her wet core and she loses all coherent thought. Solas’ robes disappear and Maera is amazed by the feat, but even more so by the incredible, lean and sculpted body he was hiding beneath them. She runs trembling hands over his torso, feeling unworthy to even dare touch such perfection. He quakes beneath her touch however and she feels emboldened; eagerly fondling him, as his fingers continue to slowly stroke and curl inside her.

He keeps pressing the same spot, slowly tightening this coil of pleasure that is building deep within her. Maera leans forward to mouth open, hungry kisses along his shoulders and chest. His thumb slides up through her slick folds to tweak her clit and stars explode behind her eyes.

“Ah-ha!” She cries out, the knee holding all her weight almost collapsing beneath her. Solas’ free hand roams her back and side, trying to feel her, but foiled by her armour.

“Could you?” He asks, his breath hot against her ear. “You told me to put my hands on you.” He archly reminds her, even as he continues his ministrations below.

“I don’t think…” she whimpers helplessly. “Even… if I could… concentrate.” She confesses shakily, drawing a smug little chortle from him.

“Very well, vherlin.” He purrs, withdrawing his hand and turning her away from him in one smooth motion. She is steady again, with both her feet firmly planted back on the ground. The feeling does not last long however, as the head of his erection presses against her from behind. Slowly - so deliciously - does he enter her, that Maera is certain she would collapse entirely if he were not holding her up.

“Maera.” Fervently he calls her name as she clenches around him. For her part, she grasps the hedge for dear life, a fever raging through her from the way he fills her so completely. He makes a few tentative thrusts, ensuring that they are well positioned and Maera is not sure how long she will last; the sensation of him stretching her open already driving her close to the edge.

Solas begins a steady rhythm and Maera cannot hold back the unintelligible sounds that fall from her lips. The feel of his rigid cock dragging along her tender flesh sends a bolt of pleasure directly to her brain. It is exquisite and it is agony in equal measure and she shreds the poor hedge in her desperate need for release. As Solas reads and adjusts to the way Maera thrusts back against him, their tempo increases rapidly. He grasps her jaw, turning her face as he pulls her back against him. He moans raggedly into her mouth as he kisses her, his tongue clashing erratically with her own.

Just when she thinks she can take no more - that she will forever be a mindless thing of unquenchable need - she crashes over the peak. With a cry her legs finally go and Solas catches her, sinking to his knees. She quivers around him as he drives into her, chasing his own orgasm. With a final haphazard thrust he comes, his shout muffled against the crook of her neck.

They kneel - still joined - panting and shaking as they lean into one another. At length Solas brushes her hair to one side, tenderly pressing his mouth to the back of her neck. She is so full of bliss, her mind foggy with contentment, she cannot recall why she was ever afraid of him.

“That is one sturdy hedge.” Solas laughs softly, her skin tingling at the sound of it. She smiles bashfully as she inspects their efforts; the only evidence being some fallen leaves scattered on the ground and a few snapped branches.

“Not from lack of effort.” Maera reassuringly pats his thigh. “Next time,” she reclines back against his shoulder, “the throne.” Solas’ arms tighten around her, his cock twitching where it still nestles inside.

“Mmmm, vherlin.” He gently bites the lobe of her ear. “These wicked things you say.”


End file.
